


An Unforgettable Episode

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Post War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-04
Updated: 2006-08-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 15:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10811454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: "Love is the history of a woman's life; it's an episode in a man's."-- Germaine De StaelThe threat of distance creates a crisis for Hermione. She begins to doubt what she means to Ron. After a fight and some hurtful words, Hermione is crushed. Will Ron be able to convince her of his love?





	An Unforgettable Episode

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes:

Originally written for the Ron/Hermione Quote! Fic Challenge at Checkmated. 

Prompt:  **_“Love is the history of a woman’s life; it’s an episode in a man’s.”_**  -- Germaine De Stael

* * *

** An Unforgettable Episode **

_Bang, Bang!_

“Ron, open up,” said Hermione impatiently.  It was a cold winter afternoon and she was insistently hitting the wooden door to Ron’s flat.  It was almost as if she was trying to break down the door, and she had to restrain herself from doing just that.

The wind was blowing strongly against the nearby trees, tossing their branches from side to side and making them knock hard against each other.  The sound emanating from the fierce blast of the wind gave the already gloomy afternoon an eerie feeling, and the iciness against Hermione’s face made her shiver.  She was not only shivering from the feel of the air against her skin, but also from a mix of disappointment, disbelief, and sharp pain.  _Why didn’t he tell me?_

“It’s open, come on in.  I’ll be right out!” called Ron from inside his flat.  His voice had gotten deeper in the last couple of years, another sign of how much he had grown up.  At nineteen, he was no longer the red-haired boy Hermione had met on the Hogwarts Express – the boy who had dirt on his nose.  Now he was tall, lean and incredibly handsome.  While helping Harry find the Horcruxes and defeat Voldemort, he had grown up to be a confident, self-assured young man, ready to take on the next challenge.

Hermione let herself in; it was something she did quite often.  Ron and Harry had always reminded her that she was welcome to drop in anytime she wanted.  Without a doubt, their flat was like a refuge, a buffer of sorts between the quiet stillness of her flat and the busy, stressful routine of her job at the Ministry of Magic.

A couple of months after the defeat of Voldemort, Ron and Harry had moved into a comfortable flat that afforded them the privacy they would never get at the Burrow.  Hermione had found a cozy, small flat not too far from their place.  After seven years of sharing practically everything with them, it was only natural to want to stay close to her two best friends.  But now something new threatened to destroy the closeness and proximity between them, and Hermione couldn’t bear it.  She didn’t want to see it happen, especially when it came to Ron.  She didn’t want to lose the connection she had with him.   

Earlier that day, Hermione had accidentally overheard that Ron and Harry had been invited by the French Ministry of Magic to participate in a year-long study abroad program in their Auror Department.  She had felt a sharp pang of sadness as she realized that Ron had chosen to keep something so important from her.  All throughout the day she had been distracted, wondering constantly if Ron had even planned on telling her about this opportunity.  _He won’t really leave without telling me, will he?_ she worried, and then even a greater fear hit her: _After all we’ve been through, doesn’t he need me or want me by his side?_

As Hermione walked closer to the fireplace, hoping to warm herself up, she noticed a letter thrown carelessly on top of the coffee table.  She knew it wasn’t right, but her curiosity got the better of her.  She carefully picked it up, opened the half-folded parchment, and her brown eyes quickly scanned the contents of the letter…  

**Le Ministère de Magie Français souhaite officiallement la bienvenue a M. Ronald B. Weasley…**

Hermione didn’t need to read any further because that little bit told her enough.  She didn’t need to be fluent in French to know what it meant - Ron was leaving.  _This is it, the end.  And before we’ve even had a real beginning._   She felt her heart constrict at the very thought of it, and tears started running down her face. This letter was not a mere invitation; it was an official welcome to the program.  Ron had clearly already accepted.  Hermione felt betrayed, lied to, but most of all she felt hurt.  _Don’t I mean anything to him?  After those kisses, those quiet moments between us, it felt like it was finally our time to be, and now he’s leaving, just like that._

Hermione felt Ron’s presence as soon as he walked into the room. _I have to face him, but what do I say?_  She had the sudden urge to turn around and slap him, but she held back.  To be able to face Ron she needed to depend on her rational side, unfortunately, she was rarely rational when it came to him.  Before she could turn around to face him, she needed to control her tears and her emotions.  

“Hi there,” said Ron cheerfully.  

Hermione took a deep breath and furiously wiped the tears from her face before turning around and giving Ron a reproachful look.  _He doesn’t need to sound so cheerful; he could at least feel some remorse about leaving me behind._   

Abruptly, Hermione asked, “So, when were you planning on telling me?  Or were you just going to wait and send me an owl from Paris?”  _So much for being rational._

“What are you on about?” asked Ron, visibly confused.  The cheerfulness in his voice had vanished and he was looking cautiously at her.

Hermione ran a hand through her hair in frustration.  “Don’t play dumb with me, Ron.  You know perfectly well that I’m talking about this program abroad in France.”  

She waved the letter hastily in front of Ron.  When he realized what it was, his eyebrows rose in surprise, and he merely asked, “Have you been reading my post?”

Hermione dismissed his question and continued, her voice shaking.  She was struggling to come up with the right words.  “Don’t you think that I deserved to know?”  Her voice caught in her throat, for she was on the verge of crying again.  “Don’t you think that after what we’ve been through, after… after all those moments that you and I….”  She gave up trying to find the exact words and directly asked, “Ron, how can you just leave?”

Ron tried to get closer to Hermione and grab her hand, but she backed away, knowing it would annoy Ron.  Right now, she didn’t want to be close to him.  She needed to keep her distance; it was the only way she could continue with the conversation.  She glared at Ron, waiting for his response.

“Hermione, you’ve got it all wrong.  Besides, you weren’t supposed to read that letter – there’s a reason I hadn’t mentioned it.”

“Why… why would you purposefully keep something so important from me?  Doesn’t my opinion matter to you?”

Ron seemed to be getting irritated; his arms were now crossed against his chest.  He swallowed hard before responding, “Of course your opinion matters.  Don’t be daft.”  He hesitated and shifted uncomfortably.  “It’s just something I can’t discuss with you, not yet.”

Hermione quirked a brow.  “Why not?  What are you waiting for?”  

“I - well, it’s just that….”  He let out an aggravated groan.  “Hermione let’s just talk about this later.”

The more Ron avoided her questions, the more Hermione felt she needed to know.  Her stubborn streak would not permit her to let it go.  “Ron, just tell me!”  She then lowered her eyes and quietly added, “I think I have a right to know what’s going on with you.”

Ron was clearly frustrated.  His fists were closed tightly at his sides, as if wanting to hold on to his last shred of control.  “Damn it, Hermione, can you just let it go for now?”

“Fine, but I though you and I were… that we were…”

“Friends or whatever it is that we are, it doesn’t give you the right to pry, to snoop, or to demand anything.”  As soon as the words left his mouth, Ron looked away as if embarrassed by his outburst.

Hermione gasped, surprised and hurt by his words.  Sure, she knew Ron could be rude and tactless, and she had provoked him.  But it still hurt. She felt her cheeks flush from a mix of embarrassment and anger.   She had to get away from him. “You’re right, Ron; I shouldn’t have pushed you to tell me anything.” 

She moved closer to the door, and as she was getting ready to leave, she turned around and said sharply, “Maybe when you’re ready to tell me, I won’t be interested.”  She winced as soon as the words left her mouth.  _Why did I say that?  That could never be true; I will always be interested in Ron and anything he wants to tell me._

He quickly turned around to face her.  There was fear and surprise mixed in his eyes, but his voice was brutally harsh when he asked, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You figure it out.  I’m leaving.”  She slammed the door hard and hurriedly walked away.  

Hermione walked with no set path in mind.  Her feet traveled almost with no consent, and they kept her moving aimlessly through the streets of Hogsmeade.  Occasionally, she would stop in front of a shop’s window, but she never really looked at their colorful displays.  Her mind was in a completely different place – with Ron.

She was feeling emotionally drained.  Her relationship with Ron had always had its ups and downs, that was certainly a constant.   During the year that they had followed Harry in search for the Horcruxes, they had become closer.  They still rowed, but they also had grown more comfortable around each other.  They had to spend a lot of time together, either busily researching the possibilities of Horcruxes and how to destroy them, or just keeping each other company when Harry drifted off somewhere to be alone.  

Secretly, Hermione had cherished those moments alone with Ron.  It was then that Ron had opened up to her and confided his fears and trepidations about the journey the three of them had embarked on.  There had been many late night conversations, and also many moments in which they silently just assured each other they were not alone.  He would usually put his arm around her shoulders, and she would lean in and put her head against his chest.  It was tender, comforting, and that new level of closeness had led to many somewhat innocent kisses.  

Back then, there had been no questions asked.  There had been no need to put a label on their changing relationship.  It was almost as if there was a silent understanding between them.  Each of them knew that they were there for each other, and always would be.  They took comfort in being together and sharing those moments and hoped that if their relationship was moving to something more than friendship, then time would let them know how to handle that change.  What they really had to concentrate on was the task ahead, being there for Harry, and especially on surviving the grueling war against Voldemort.

But now, as silly and insecure as it sounded, Hermione needed reassurance.  Even though the trials of the war were passed, she needed to know what she was and what she meant to Ron.  She was fed up with not knowing what to expect from him.  She was tired of waiting for Ron to tell her flat out how he felt about her.  She suspected that Ron fancied her and maybe even loved her - at least that’s what he made her feel.  _Why is it so hard for him to talk about his feelings?  What’s he so scared of?_   

Hermione missed terribly those moments when they had been together, just the two of them.  She missed the serenity and thrill she felt when wrapped in his arms, feeling his comforting body heat.  She sighed sadly and hugged herself as she walked, regretting how those moments were now few and far in between.

It wasn’t that they had grown apart, it was just that now their individual activities kept them mostly busy.  Once the war had ended, the time they had to spend together had diminished drastically.  Hermione had initially left to spend some much needed time with her parents, and once she returned she had immersed herself fully in her job at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.   Ron had immediately accepted his father’s request to work with him and help re-build the Ministry.  After the murder of Rufus Scrimgeour, Arthur Weasley had been unanimously elected to be the new Minister of Magic.  He had a lot of work ahead of him with the daunting task of re-building and uniting England’s magical community.

Now, almost a year after the defeat of Voldemort, the task to re-build the Ministry had been accomplished and Mr. Weasley was well established in his role as the Minister of Magic.  So Ron was free to choose his own career path - he hadn’t quite decided what he really wanted to do.  He was torn between Quidditch, Auror Training, and at times he even considered staying around to continue working with his father.  

Ever since overhearing that conversation, Hermione had been afraid that Ron would jump at this opportunity with the French Ministry, without giving it much thought.  It had fallen right into his lap, and it looked like Ron had decided to take it, without really giving his other choices, _or her_ , any consideration.

Soon, Hermione found herself outside Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop.  She really didn’t know how she had gotten there - she had no intention of going anywhere in particular - but it was a logical place to be, in fact a good place.  She could go in and buy quills, ink, and some parchment.  Maybe she could even distract herself in that corner of the shop where the owner kept a collection of rare, hard-to-find books.  Without a doubt, she would find some interesting read to keep her mind off Ron.  

Hermione entered the store and walked directly to her favorite corner.  She rapidly scanned the book shelf and reached up to pull out a purple-covered book that had instantly caught her eye.  To her annoyance, she wasn’t the only witch interested in that particular book.  Someone else reached for the same book just before she did.  

Hermione turned to her right to see the person who had taken the book she wanted.  She was surprised to see an old, frail, mystical looking woman who had a ghost-like appearance.  There was an alluring essence to her.  The old witch radiated the kind of knowledge and wisdom that only comes with age.  She seemed to be floating; her pale pink robes silently twirled around her body as if there were a current of air inside the shop.

The old witch looked curiously at Hermione, and in sweet foreign accent asked, “What seems to be the trouble, dear?”  She was looking at Hermione with such a penetrating gaze, that to Hermione it felt as if her inner most thoughts were being read.  “Let me guess, it’s about love, isn’t it?  Nothing but unrequited love can make a young witch like you look so miserable.” 

_How can she tell?_ Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise.  “Who are you?” she asked, truly interested.

“That’s neither here or there.  Don’t try to rationalize or understand love, it’s not possible.”  The old witch reached inside the pocket of her robes and took out a small piece of parchment.  She placed it the palm of her hand and carefully blew it towards Hermione.   The piece of parchment glided through the air and landed smoothly on Hermione’s already outstretched hand.

Then the old with turned around to leave, but before doing so she whispered into Hermione’s ear, “Read this.  There is nothing you can do but accept it.  That’s the way it always has been.”

Hermione attempted to follow the old witch, but she had vanished almost immediately.  She walked up to the shop’s attendant and asked, “Excuse me, do you know who that witch was?  The one with me in the corner over there,” she said, pointing.

The attendant didn’t seem as interested in the mysterious witch as she was.  He shrugged his shoulders and apathetically said, “Could be anyone.  The spirits or ghosts of great literary minds sometimes visit the shops where their books can be found.  They usually give unsolicited advice to those who they feel need it the most.”

Hermione was now even more interested to know who the mysterious witch was.  _Who could that great literary mind be?_  She walked out of the store, hoping to find the witch; unfortunately she was no where in sight.  Hermione sat down on the wooden bench outside the store and carefully opened the yellow, tattered parchment the mysterious witch had given her.  In beautiful, old-fashioned cursive writing the parchment read:

**Love is the history of a woman’s life; it’s an episode in a man’s.**

_An episode?  Is that what I am to Ron?_   Hermione re-read that old parchment several times, trying to accept what the words meant.  It made her insides lurch.  She refused to believe that to Ron she was merely an episode.  But then again, how could she refute the words of a great literary mind?  

It was true, Ron was her whole life.  To her, he was everything.  And he’d been by her side for years – her entire passage from girlhood to womanhood.   He represented everything good in her life:  loyalty, friendship, values, passion, and love. The love she felt for him was a fundamental part of her history:  in some way, it had all had started back during their first year of Hogwarts.  How could she not love him when she had seen him sacrifice himself for Harry, for a greater good?

Hermione had always hoped that to Ron, their time together growing up had been as important to him as it had been to her.  But now, she was concerned about how Ron really saw all their time together.  Had she been to him a fleeting passage?  Had their years together been to him an episode in his journey towards a different life?  Years from now, would he even remember what they had shared?

“That’s rubbish!”  Ron suddenly appeared out of nowhere and stood right next to the wooden bench, breathing heavily.

Ron had startled Hermione; he was supposed to be back in his flat.  _What is he doing here?_ She turned around to face him, her eyes widening.  “What?”  

“That,” he said, pointing to the parchment Hermione was still holding in her hand.  “It’s absolute rubbish.  You don’t believe it, do you?”

_Do I?  I don’t want to believe it, but…._ Hermione was in no mood to talk to Ron.  Not after their previous fight, not after what she had just read.  What she wanted was to get away from him, to protect her heart from further disappointment.  She stood up shakily and made to walk away, but he grabbed her arm to stop her.  “Let me go,” she said fiercely. 

Ron didn’t let go of her arm, but he did ease up a bit on his grip.  “Hermione, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.  Don’t leave, please, I need to talk to you.” 

“What happened to not being ready to tell me?” she asked bitterly.

Ron swallowed hard and said softly, “A minute after you left, I decided that I’d rather tell you now than wait and risk losing you.”

Those words crumbled her need to flee.  Her heart was beating ten times faster; she breathed deeply, hoping to calm her racing heart.  Ron telling her he didn’t want to lose her was enough to allow Hermione’s hopes to resurface.   

“Oh.”  She relented, turned around, and sat back on the bench.  Ron sat next to her and held her hand.  Hermione tensed at his touch and pulled her hand back.  She was willing to listen, but she wasn’t ready to feel him that close to her.

“It’s too crowded here.  Let’s take a walk,” Ron suggested, giving Hermione an expectant look.

She agreed with a quick nod.  They both stood up and started walking towards High Street.  There was a tense silence, which was broken by Ron.  “Hermione, you got it wrong.  I’m not going to France.  I never accepted the invitation to join the program abroad.”

“But the letter… I saw it, Ron.”  Hermione blushed, for she was slightly ashamed of having read something not meant for her.  “They were welcoming you to the program.  Why would they do that unless you had accepted?”

“I honestly don’t know why they sent such a letter.  Dad reckons the invitation was a mere formality.  But Hermione, regardless of what that letters says I’m not going to go.”  

Ron let out a deep sigh and added carefully, “I did consider it for a minute - I mean it was exciting to be invited to participate in a program abroad - but then I dismissed it completely.”  His eyes met hers and he spoke more slowly.  “There are two important reasons why I could never go.”

They had now walked to the edge of the village, out in the countryside that surrounded Hogsmeade, and the few cottages and gardens around them were covered in snow.  Behind the mountain, the sunset was setting in.  Hermione let out sigh of relief at hearing he wasn’t going to go.  She had to know what had made him stay.  She knew she was being selfish, but part of her really wanted to hear Ron say that he had decided to stay because of her.  “What are your reasons?”

“Well, after thinking it over again and again, I decided that I don’t want to fight Dark wizards any more.  I think we had enough with Voldemort and his cronies.”  He grinned; surely he was trying to lighten the mood.  

Hermione couldn’t help but smile a little.  The way he smiled, it just melted her heart.  It was hard to stay mad at Ron for too long, but she wanted to be firm.  “That makes sense.  But I still don’t understand why you couldn’t tell me before.”

Ron looked pained, reminding her so much of his boyish insecurities.  “Before I could tell you, I wanted to have a plan, a future set.  I didn’t want any more uncertainties.”  He dipped his head down and then looked back up at her, confessing, “Hermione, I’ve been trying out for some Quidditch teams, but I haven’t heard back from any of them.  I wanted to wait and hear from at least one team.  I wanted to have that and then tell you.”

Hermione’s mouth fell open, and a new pang of anger shot through her.  Not anger or disappointment at Ron.  Rather, it was anger at herself, for assuming the worst and for doubting their bond.

Ron moved closer to Hermione, took a deep breath and in a very vulnerable voice said, “See, you’re that second reason I could never leave.  Actually, you’re the most important reason.  I could never be away from you.  But before I could tell you what you mean to me, I wanted to have my future set.”

Hermione was speechless; she had thought the worst of Ron and she had been completely wrong.  _How could I ever doubt that he cared?_  She felt her eyes sting with fresh tears that were threatening to spill.   She felt terribly guilty for trying to force him to tell her something when he wasn’t ready.  _Why do I have to be so stubborn?_

“I’m sorry I got so mad, I should have just….”  She couldn’t find the right words.  Instead, without thinking, she threw her arms around Ron and kissed him.  It was just a soft kiss, a quick brush of her lips against his, but full of meaning.  When she pulled back, she looked up to see Ron smiling at her.  He picked her up enthusiastically, twirled her around, and gave her another soft kiss before setting her down again.

“Hermione, I love you.”  He leaned in, cupped her face, and kissed her tenderly again.  “You could never just be an episode in my life, don’t ever believe that.  Yes, our history is full of moments that define who we are, who we’ve become, but you’re not and you could never be only an episode in my life.  You’re much more than that.  You’re the link that holds all of me together.  You’re my whole life and I want to share everything I have with you, always.”

Hermione’s voice caught in her throat.  There were too many emotions swirling around in her heart, she had to swallow hard before speaking.  “Ron, I love you too.”  For a lingering moment, she smiled warmly and gently caressed his cheek. “I wanted for so long, to hear you say that.  I know it’s silly but somehow even knowing it and feeling it, I needed to hear you say that you loved me.  You have no idea how crushed I was, thinking you were leaving me behind.”  She held strongly to his arms and looked straight at him.  “I need you by my side, always.  You’re everything I could ever want… past, present, and future.”

“I love you, I love you.  I’ll never get tired of saying it, as long as you’ll let me.”  Ron gave her the most adorable smile as he put his arms around her waist and pulled her closer.  She instinctively put her arms around Ron’s neck, lifted her head to meet his lips, and gave herself completely to that moment.   

It certainly wasn’t their first kiss.  But it was their fist kiss without hesitation, without questions, without restraint.  It was a new, welcomed sensation.  He nibbled on her lower lip and gently pushed his tongue forward, asking to deepen their kiss, to which she immediately complied.  For the first time, Hermione felt the whole of Ron’s being invested into that kiss and she responded in kind.  His mouth was demanding yet gentle; it was consuming, yet loving.   She had never felt so completely loved.

As they pulled apart, Hermione giggled happily.  She couldn’t help but feel completely giddy.  Ron was kissing her again, on her lips, her cheeks, on every corner of face.  It was maddening how grand he made her feel.

“Let’s go home,” he said suddenly.

“Home, where?”

“It doesn’t matter:  Your place, my flat.  As long as we’re there together, it’ll be home.”  

Hermione smiled lovingly at him, and reached to give him one more quick kiss before walking hand in hand back home.

On their walk back, she crumbled the yellow tattered piece of parchment and threw it in the nearest rubbish bin in sight.  Never before had she been so glad to have some written words proved wrong.  She sneaked a sideways glance at Ron and was thrilled to find the deepest kind of love in his eyes.  That love was directed only towards her, and she could feel it as he squeezed her hand.  Hermione felt elated, cherished, wanted, and happier that she had ever felt in her life.  She then held tighter to Ron’s arm.  They were laughing and talking as they entered a new, thrilling phase of their life:  A phase that would most certainly be a lifetime of many happy episodes.

  



End file.
